


between the lights

by hellodenihere



Category: Persona 5, Persona Series
Genre: #ryujiweek, Character Study, Dissociation, Gen, M/M, Panic Attacks, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, but that's not the main focus here, the pegoryu can be seen as platonic or more than that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:55:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25032796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellodenihere/pseuds/hellodenihere
Summary: Ryuji feels.... unreal. Floating, would be the better word maybe. Still shaking, tears still dripping ever so slowly, body and mind panicking all over, and yet, somehow,calm.Or alternatively, Ryuji walks home alone in a busy street with high speeding cars dashing past, and the thought comes easily: nobody is there to stop him.
Relationships: Kurusu Akira & Sakamoto Ryuji, Kurusu Akira/Sakamoto Ryuji
Comments: 8
Kudos: 135





	between the lights

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warning for suicidal thoughts and something very very close to an actual attempt.
> 
> this started out as a vent fic a few weeks ago. and somehow, by the end of it, i looked at it and was like 'omg this would be perfect for ryuji’s birthday.'
> 
> ....i'll try to write something happier next year.  
> 

The breeze doesn't feel right. It's too cold, too _tight,_ as if with a simple gush of wind it can easily topple him over, or maybe, to actually, really tear him apart.

But at the same time, it's too…. _less._ Air is all that surrounds him, he feels it all over despite layers upon layers of clothing, and _yet._ Breathing right doesn’t come as easily.

The nightly air is no different from yesterday, or the day before that. It’s been so stupidly cold for the past week, so _of course._ But his hands are shaking, mouth gasping for air- in, out, in out, in.... out. He's no longer actively crying as hard as he was, but there are still tears falling, like all the rest of his energy are dripping out in the form of it, one by one.

He doesn't need to look in a mirror to know he looks like shit. But at the moment, he doesn't really give a damn either.

Look around. Right, front, left, and back. Now do it again vice versa. Keep breathing- in, out, in out. There are still people walking past him in all sorts of directions, paying him no mind. In a busy street like this, Ryuji is just another faceless boy in the midst of a crowd. Practically invisible. Same old Tokyo.

Anyone who would bother to look at him for even just a second would probably realize he's having a panic attack, what with the redness of his eyes and all that, but no one does.

Tear tracks are still visible on his face, but on the outside he looks calmer than before. Eyes lidded slightly, mouth a firm line, taking short, quick breaths. Unfocused, hazy. _Tired._

On the inside, he can feel his heartbeat hammering against the confines of his chest like it's trying to break out before it explodes. Every part of his nerves screaming at him to run, run, _run._

Nothing like that happens.

Ryuji feels.... unreal. Floating, would be the better word maybe. Still shaking, tears still dripping ever so slowly, body and mind panicking all over, and yet, somehow, _calm._ He feels calmer now. Like it's all happening so far away, like yes it is still his body and he can still feel every seam ripping at the edge from the inside out, but at the same time it is a distant hum, like a wave crashing by the ocean jammed between his ears.

He's not okay, but he's _okay._

Surprisingly, it's better than he's felt in days, weeks even.

He looks back from where he came from, rests his weight on his other foot, and on his new cane from the right, resting his other leg.

He feels dumb for having to rely on a goddamn walking stick, but it's better than those stupid crutches. He wouldn't be able to stand the stares worse than what he gets now.

He doesn't know what's worse really, the innocent pitying glances, or those disgusted sneers left in his way from the people he used to call his friends just a few weeks back.

It was his fault anyway. Dumb, impulsive Ryuji as fucked up as always.

The thought isn't something new, just a simmering old ache translated and rooted from childhood, a scar that stings and flares and acts up depending on how his day goes. But he had the track team, hours and hours focused on breaking a sweat, mind a standstill as it focuses on only the right way to breathe with each workout, training, as he rushes past the fields of a school proud to have him. That was the normal, but that was the _before_ and this was the now.

He starts walking to where his feet would take him, blindly walking past the sounds of angry car horns, billboard ads, crowds shuffling past and as they chatter and murmur, and the like.

Then, he stops.

It doesn't deter anyone. They simply walk around him.

Rush hour comes by fast, torrents of cars dashing towards their planned destinations. By an intersection, the nearest crosswalk is a few meters apart from the side of the road where these are at full speed, uncaring and very, very hurried.

Ryuji leans out on the edge of the sidewalk, and stares to his left. A vacant look written on his expression.

He's always been thinking about it. Just a casual little slip, a clumsy mistake on his part for onlookers to witness as he lets himself.... go. Away from this body, away from the noise and into the endless void of calm and nothing. Another seemingly careless move to blame on dumb old Sakamoto Ryuji's part, and _finally,_ an easy reset. Not for him. For his mom, his sweet, sweet mom who deserved so much more, away from overtime shifts and no more creases on her forehead from worrying over stacks upon stacks of bills night by night and problems and _him._ Maybe finally spend some money on herself, get that floral dress she’s been eyeing out at the mall, put more meat in her bones rather than worrying over feeding him.

He's not worth anything now. Doomed a future full of hopes and dreams by letting it crash and burn for acting on his temper. And he took everyone down with him. That was the thing. He never gets anything right. Not now and not ever.

Who would do that anyway? Why give him the wheel of a rocking ship that’s long since been leaking, why name him captain of the boat if all that was left to sink it was one small push by a shitty invader?

_Track star athlete._

How could he have been so stupid, to believe that he could have reach for the stars from the ocean if he just kept running, and running? Why did people suddenly rely on him, and then left just as easy? It didn’t make any sense. It never made sense. Why did he realize that just now?

He should have jumped off the plank the moment the opportunity came, before the map called scholarships and college ever reached his ears. If only he had ran away from the start before anything seemingly promising crossed his path.

It would be so _easy,_ to just jump into the traffic. He could do so much with just a misstep. No one would think twice to stop him before it's too late.

He takes a slow step forward. 

A motorcycle dashes past, enough to ruffle his hair and tickle his nose, but not close enough. His heart catches in his throat, but he chooses to brave on.

He looks first. Another motorcycle, one of those cool big ones.

Five seconds.

It would be so easy.

Four.

It would fix so much.

Three.

He wouldn’t have to wake up anymore.

Two. He leans forward.

His mom would miss him so much.

_One._

And suddenly, he can't breathe.

A split second is all it takes, and suddenly, he jumps back just as fast, stumbling over his cane backwards as the motorcycle rushes by him just the same as the first one. Pain shooting up his leg immediately as he winces, half lidded eyes blink over and over, before widening.

He takes a gulp of air, swallowing and trying to take a breath. He limps a few steps back more.

The wave breaks down from his ears as it lands on shore, leaving him in its wake, alive and gasping for life.

What was he _doing?_

Fresh tears are spilling past his cheeks, and he can't stop it.

Did he really just almost do…. _that._

_What would it have fixed?_

A million thoughts goes through his head. Of a confused unknown driver in jail, unpaid hospital bills and future funeral bills to match. He thinks of his mom wearing a black dress instead of the floral one, breaking down in a lone apartment she worked so hard to get for the both of them in hopes of a promising new start.

Ryuji still wants to die, very much so. But he also cares too much about those around him more than himself. Non-guilty strangers, witnesses alike, and especially his mom.

No, that wasn’t just it.

He just… wants to go on. See how it goes. Maybe continuing on this terrifying, new, dreary day-by-day life would shift again at some point, it just _has_ to at some point, right? Maybe the waves would decide to change its course, away and all that from him as he searches for what to do next on this lonesome island. Lost, but maybe the crash was the tipping point, and the stupid thing called bad luck would leave him the hell alone and go elsewhere to search for its new host to play with.

He looks around. No one notices.

Ryuji walks away.

He shoves his hands into his face the whole way through the train commute, sobbing quietly.

Some spare a glance, but keep a polite distance, paying him no mind.

He goes home.

He still cries himself to sleep night after night for the next month or so, until he's drained and finally empty.

He bleaches his hair blond, ignores old clubmates and keeps his head down at school.

It doesn’t get better.

He considers dropping out.

_Just get through it, Sakamoto._

He's just gotta hang in there, for as long as he can manage.

It’s been a rough couple of weeks, and he doubts it could get worse.

« x »

Chocolate brown eyes blink open in the midst of the dark. He squints, brows creasing while staring up at the ceiling. The blond stays still, unmoving and refusing to think straight as he gets his heartbeat in order.

Just a dream.

It was a long time ago.

Sweat rolls down across his skin as he sits up, hand fumbling around for a phone to pass the time from whatever’s happening in his own head. The screen lights up, revealing his last text to the thieves group chat.

No one responded. He's still left on seen.

That's fine, that's fine. It happens. Don't freak out about an ignored text message Ryuji, for god's sake.

He sighs. In, out, in, out. Look around, right, front, left and back. And then the opposite.

Now check the clock.

3:13 AM. Still way too early, and it's a Sunday too.

Fingers reach into his temple, gently massaging it. Takes the blanket to go back to sleep. _Get over it._

Then, his phone lights up on its own, vibrating only silently.

He reaches for it, and squints to try and read it.

> **Akira:** _ryujiiiii. hang out with meee_
> 
> **Akira:** _you probably won't see this 'til later but ha!! see how it feels to get a text at god knows ‘o’ clock!!!!_
> 
> **Akira:** _(jk it’s fine if u do text me at any time btw)_
> 
> **Akira:** anw yea talk to you later. oh and good morning :)

The blond beams, smiling an honest sincere one as his eyes light up.

> **Ryuji:** _im up u dork. morning!!_
> 
> **Ryuji:** _but sure im down man, was actually planning to ask u to hang today lmao_
> 
> **Ryuji:** _meet u at the blanc?_

The reply comes one after another as soon as he switches to another app.

> **Akira:** _first of all, it's le blanc_
> 
> **Akira:** _second, no it's fine. let's just meet halfway_
> 
> **Akira:** _and third: wtf it’s like 3am go to sleep_

They reply back and forth just like that, trading jokes and plans to go fishing out. There’s still a lot of go-to places he’s been planning to introduce to his friend. And hell, when they’re done with that, there’s a whole city out there for them to explore. Any place makes for a good time whenever Akira is there. Sleep comes to him easier after that, trying to fight against it even to keep texting, eyes slowly shutting close as the inevitable comes to him.

His phone rings up again.

Okay, one more look.

> **Akira:** alright good night, see you later
> 
> **Akira:** oh and also: happy birthday ryuji!!!!!!!

Ryuji blinks, a frown tugging on his face. Now that gets him awake, he scrolls over the message to check the date, and there it is.

_July 3._

It’s his birthday. Huh.

It’s been a year since……. _That._ A year and a day _since._

He made it. He actually made it.

And things are…. a little bit better. He’s got friends again, better friends than he could ever ask for. Friends who fuss over his bruises in between battles, friends who ask if he’s okay to keep going, friends who know his story and don’t go away. Friends who came in out of nowhere and all over the place.

Friends like Akira, the guy that started and brought them all.

Another smile finds its way to him again, tears building up at the corner of his eyes.

Things are getting better.

Maybe things are already okay after all.

-are the last thoughts passing through his mind before he sends out his last text for the night: 

> **Ryuji:** _u just wanted to greet me first, didn’t you_

The reply comes just as fast as he’s typed it.

> **Akira:** _maaaybe_
> 
> **Akira:** _:3c_

His grin widens, all before sleep finally takes him back, phone slipping away from his grasp before he could have replied. This time sleep is a nice dreamless one, and he wakes up to the day to see the guy he proudly calls his best friend, his leader.

He musters up the courage to claim the title as his right hand man in battle, and it feels silly to actually say it outloud.

But Akira just smiles, and nods, patting him on the shoulder twice before saying, _“You always did have my back from the start.”_ and that just blows up his ego even more, wearing a cheeky smile with an embarrassing blush to match.

He looks up to the skies with no clouds hiding the sun. Air hot and _burning_ from the summer heat.

It’s a nice day out, and he couldn’t ask for anything more.

He feels happy.

**Author's Note:**

> I know times are especially rough right now, but i do truly hope that things can and will get better. It's easier said than done, but try to reach to a friend, or take some time off for yourself. It's valid to feel burnt out from everything, but please take care of yourself.
> 
> also,
> 
> i am so sorry i literally can't write anything happy for ryuji on his own birthday. first the zombie fic and now this sksksksksk. i posted some ryuji edits on [twitter](https://twitter.com/hellodenihere)/[tumblr](https://hellodenihere.tumblr.com/tagged/posts) to make u smile for #ryujiweek if that makes it any better.


End file.
